


Under Attack!

by BerryBagel



Series: BerryBagel Rarepair Week 2019 [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Humor, Mamma Mia AU!, Mamma Mia! References, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerryBagel/pseuds/BerryBagel
Summary: Why yes, that IS a reference to the classic 1981 Abba hit, and you know what that means...Myrcella's wedding is fast approaching, and she's ready to take a cue from Mamma Mia!The dads are invited and the playlist is set, but she doesn't remember the movie being quite like this.Day seven prompt: Free Day(!)





	Under Attack!

**Author's Note:**

> ♫ I'm nobody's fool and yet it's clear to me ♪  
> ♪ I don't have a strategy ♫
> 
> Under Attack is one of the best Abba songs that didn't make it into the Mamma Mia! franchise and if you get nothing else from this fic I definitely recommend you check it out

“It’ll be great.  Just like  _ Mamma Mia _ .” Myrcella says.

 

“Seems unlikely.  Is  _ Mamma Mia _ a movie about using your wedding as an excuse to find your father?” Trystane asks.  He hasn’t seen  _ Mamma Mia _ .  It’s his only flaw.

 

“Yes, actually.  That’s the whole premise of the movie.”

 

“In that case, yes, I suppose it will be just like  _ Mamma Mia _ .” Trystane says.  He sighs. “Tell me again, who are these men you invited?”

 

Myrcella had found her Mom’s old day planner, from the year before she was born.

 

“Rhaegar Targaryen, Ned Stark, and Robert Baratheon.  One of them must be my father. I’m sure of it, and I’ll know which one for sure when I see them.”

 

Rhaegar’s name had been written all over the pages of the planner, surrounded by little heart doodles.  So at first he had seemed like the most likely candidate. She looked him up on Facebook, and while he didn’t have any pictures on his page, he listed his profession as a guitarist.  He had been married once, later divorced. A whirlwind romance with a freewheeling musician, who had to leave his true love to marry his fiancée? Just crazy enough to make sense!

 

Then Myrcella had seen that some of the pages had notes blotted out.  She couldn’t make out exactly what all the words had said, but the name “Ned” had been written with such force that the letters had been practically embossed into the paper.  There must have been some sort of passion there, to translate into that level of intensity. And why else would Cersei have scrubbed the record completely clean of Ned’s name.  Maybe he broke her heart, and she wanted to forget everything about him, only to find out weeks later that she was  _ pregnant with his daughter _ !  The drama!

 

The third option was a little less appealing.  There was a note in the planner’s margins on June tenth that said “Bobby in town next week - buy condoms”.  There aren’t any follow-up mentions of Bobby, but Myrcella has to account for the possibility that her Mom forgot to go shopping.

 

* * *

Myrcella can’t believe her luck.  All three potential fathers have actually come to Dorne for the wedding!

 

She’s still not so sure which one is her father, though.

 

“Do any of them look like you?” Trystane asks.  He’s working in the kitchen, covered in flour. He’s been on a real baking kick lately.  He wants to make some sort of pastry thing for the wedding. It’s probably a good stress relief project.  Myrcella is willing to admit that her sudden genealogical quest might be  _ slightly _ increasing the stress levels in their lives.

 

“Not really.” Myrcella mostly just looks like her mother.   _ Mostly _ as in,  _ entirely _ , looks  _ exactly _ like her mother.

 

The three potential fathers all look distinctly  _ not _ like Myrcella in varying ways.

 

Rhaegar is tall and white-blond, and has purple eyes.  Myrcella loves her own green eyes, but man, purple eyes would’ve been pretty cool.

 

Ned is sort of a stoic, scary looking guy.  And, actually, she realizes now that she’s seen him, he’s totally Arya’s Dad.  Arya is one of Myrcella’s bridesmaids. Sooner or later, Myrcella is probably going to have to have an uncomfortable conversation with Arya about why Mr.Stark is here.  Maybe Arya will be happy about them potentially being half-sisters...but probably not so much, situationally.

 

Robert Baratheon looks even less like her than the other two.  He’s got black hair, and from everything Myrcella learned in ninth grade biology, it’s probably unlikely he’d have a blond daughter.  Also, he’s a huge guy. Myrcella isn’t particularly short, but she feels like if her father was giant-sized, she’d be a little taller than 5’7” in heels.

 

“Have you talked to any of them yet?” Trystane asks, rolling dough.

 

“I talked to Rhaegar.  He’s nice, but I don’t think he’s my father.” Myrcella says.

 

“No?”

 

“He said he didn’t know my Mom.” Myrcella says.

 

“Hm.  Not a great sign.  Do you think he could have just forgotten her?”

 

“I doubt it.  You’ve met my mom, she’s hard to forget.” Cersei still ambiguously hates Trystane.  Myrcella isn’t sure why. Cersei has all kinds of crazy grudges.

 

“If he doesn’t know her, and didn’t know you, why did he come to the wedding?” Trystane asks.

 

“He said he used to work with my uncle.” Myrcella says, which is a slight paraphrase.  Rhaegar had actually said he used to work with her  _ father _ , and Myrcella had to go through the usual steps of clarifying that no, Jaime is her  _ uncle _ .  Although, frankly, uncle Jaime has been more of a father to her than any of these strangers.

 

* * *

“Why would you  _ do _ this?” Cersei asks.  She brandishes the day planner in Myrcella’s face.  Oops.

 

“I thought...it’d be a fun surprise?” Myrcella says.

 

“Gods, I told Ned Stark I’d  _ kill _ him if I ever saw him again.” Cersei says.  “Now I have to kill him. The blood is on your hands.”  Cersei starts rummaging through her closet, like she might actually have a weapon in there.  Myrcella wouldn’t doubt it.

 

“Please don’t do that.” Myrcella says.

 

“I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing Ned or Bobby again.” Cersei moves away from the closet and picks out a lipstick.  It’s a pink lipstick, which is good. Dark red is the  _ bad decisions are about to be made _ lipstick.  Pink means Ned Stark probably isn’t getting killed today.

 

“I’m sorry Mom.  I thought you’d be happy to see Ned and Bobby and Rhaegar again.”

 

Cersei turns to look at Myrcella with suddenly delighted surprise.  “ _ Rhaegar _ is here?”

 

* * *

The bridesmaids have their final dress fitting, and Myrcella figures she should break the news to Arya that they may be related.

 

She tries to explain the whole scenario to Arya.  She explains that she’s invited her three potential fathers, and glosses over the fact that one of them is Mr.Stark.

 

“Oh, like  _ Mamma Mia _ .” Arya says.  “Great movie.”

 

“Exactly like that!” Myrcella says.  She wasn’t foreseeing Arya being a big fan of Abba, but the film  _ is _ a modern classic, so she can’t be too surprised.

 

“Who are the options?”  Arya pauses for a second.  “Wait, this isn’t why you invited my Dad, is it?”

 

Myrcella guiltily avoids eye contact.

 

“But you don’t think it’s actually him, do you?” Arya asks.

 

“I mean...no.” Myrcella says.  She talked to Mr.Stark earlier this afternoon.  And...yeah, he’s probably not her father. He knew Cersei when they were teens, sure, but he said they didn’t get along.  Whatever Cersei had written about him in the planner had probably been crossed out from anger, not sexual frustration. Probably.  Myrcella isn’t going to dig too deep into that.

 

“He hates your Mom.” Arya says.  “No offense.” She does, probably, mean a little bit of offense.  Arya also hates Myrcella’s Mom. Myrcella’s Mom had tried to kill Arya’s dog one time.  There’s still bad blood about it.

 

Myrcella doesn’t remember  _ Mamma Mia _ being filled with this much hatred.

 

* * *

“Trystane says you invited all of Mom’s exes to the wedding.” Tommen says.

 

“That’s weird, I could’ve sworn that Trystane promised not to tell anyone about that.” Myrcella says.  Godsdamnit, Trystane, usually so reliable and trustworthy.

 

“Okay, fine, Arya told Gendry, and Gendry texted Jon about it, Jon told Robb, Robb told Margaery, and Margaery told me.  I thought you’d prefer the version that doesn’t involve everyone else already knowing.” Tommen admits.

 

Myrcella should have never doubted Trystane.  She loves Trystane. He’s great at keeping secrets.  Unlike the rest of her friends, apparently, who are all snakes.

 

“Anyways, did you find out who your father is?” Tommen continues.

 

“I don’t know.” Myrcella admits.  “I’m still working on it.”

 

“When you find out...do you think, whoever he is, he’s my father too?” Tommen asks.

 

Tommen is only a few years younger than her, but Gods, he looks at her like he’s still just a little kid.  Myrcella can’t help but pull him in for a hug.

 

“Whoever my father is, you’re my brother.  No matter what.” She tells him. “The best brother.  And you can tell Joff I said that.”

 

Tommen hugs her back.  “Yeah, Joff pretty much sucks.”

 

* * *

“Hey, don’t look now, but your Mom is hitting on one of your Dads.” Arya says.

 

“Which one?” Myrcella asks, subtly whipping her head around to look.  It’s Rhaegar. “He said he didn’t know my Mom!”

 

“Well, he’s about to know her, from the looks of it.” Arya’s not wrong.  Cersei looks like she’s had maybe five or six drinks, and that’s the tipsy hookup danger zone.  It doesn’t look like she’s gone for the upper-thigh grab yet, but Rhaegar isn’t waving her off, so it’s no doubt coming soon.

 

“Uncle Jaime can’t get here soon enough.” Myrcella says.  Her uncle is usually pretty good at knowing when to start withholding the wine.  Cersei’s drunken shenanigans will definitely decrease by at least fifty percent with him present.

 

“Myrcella,” Arya starts, “you don’t think your Dad could be...y’know…”

 

Myrcella watches her Mom laugh loudly at something Rhaegar says.  Rhaegar looks vaguely uncomfortable. “Rhaegar? No, I don’t think it’s him.”

 

Arya coughs and shakes her head.  “I don’t think it’s Rhaegar, either.”

 

* * *

Myrcella is ready to curl up next to Trystane on the couch and fall asleep while he watches something unbelievably boring on Netflix.  Trystane really likes political thrillers with a million characters and twenty given plotlines running at any given time.

 

The characters on-screen are frantically wearing suits and whispering at each other, but Trystane’s heart doesn’t seem to be in it.  The baking must have not had the desired stress-relieving effect. No matter, Myrcella has a few other ideas for activities that’ll help him relax.  She’ll just let the show finish first…

 

“I watched  _ Mamma Mia _ yesterday.” Trystane says.

 

“Without me?” Myrcella asks.  “Nevermind, I forgive you. Wasn’t it great?”

 

“You keep saying you want our wedding to be like that...you know they call off the wedding at the end, right?” Trystane says.  He pauses his show and turns to look at Myrcella.

 

“Sure.” Myrcella says.   _ Technically _ , they don’t call off the wedding, they just switch out the bride and the groom, but she won’t get all technical on Trystane.  It’s his first time watching the movie.

 

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He asks.

 

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to tell you to watch the movie.” She says.

 

“Do you want to call off the wedding?” Trystane asks.

 

Myrcella stares at him for a second, dumbfounded. “What?”

 

“I wasn’t sure if you were trying to send a message...you keep saying you want our wedding to be just like this movie where the wedding doesn’t end up happening, and I thought…”

 

“No! No, of course I still want to get married!”  Myrcella climbs into Trystane’s lap and looks him squarely in the eyes.  “I love you, more than anything. The  _ Mamma Mia _ thing was just about finding my Dad.”

 

“Is that what the wedding is about, finding your Dad?”

 

“No!  The wedding is about us.  Honestly, the more I work at this, the less sure I am that I actually even  _ want  _ to find my Dad.”  Myrcella spent the afternoon talking to option three, Robert Baratheon.  Robert had offered to do shots with her, and then spent an hour talking about a girl he was in love with back in high school.  Myrcella doesn’t think he’s her father, and if he is, she’d just as soon not know.

 

She explains the situation to Trystane.  If anything, it’s really the opposite of  _ Mamma Mia _ .  She doesn’t want  _ any _ of these clowns walking her down the aisle.

 

(Actually, that’s unfair to Mr.Stark.  He seems reasonable enough. But he also isn’t her father and has no real business being a part of her wedding party.)

 

“Maybe you could have your Mom walk you down the aisle.” Trystane suggests, running a hand through her hair.  “You know, like in the movie.”

 

“Gods, I love you.” Myrcella says.  But that isn’t going to work, because Cersei is refusing to come to the wedding ceremony.  Cersei is in a fight with Trystane’s father, said she wouldn’t come if Mr.Martell was there.  Obviously they aren’t going to uninvite Mr.Martell. Cersei will be at the reception, at least.  Which doesn’t solve the problem of who’s walking Myrcella down the aisle.

 

Once again, Myrcella feels like there wasn’t this much open hostility in  _ Mamma Mia _ .

 

* * *

Jaime Lannister’s flight arrives the day before the wedding.  Myrcella meets him at the airport. He scoops her up in a hug, and she can’t believe she didn’t think of this earlier.

 

“I’ve spent all week trying to figure out who my father is.” She tells him.

 

He takes a step back and his eyes widen slightly.  “What did you find out?”

 

“That it doesn’t matter.  Will you walk me down the aisle tomorrow?”

 

Her uncle takes a deep breath and then laughs.  “Absolutely, kid.”


End file.
